๐๐š๐ง๐ ๐ฅ๐š๐๐ž๐ฌ๐ก ๐๐š๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง๐š๐ฅ ๐’๐จ๐ง๐ .

 


My golden bangla, I love you.

Forever your sky, your wind, flute plays in my soul.

     O mother, Fagune is maddened by the scent of your mango forest,

                              die alas, alas-

O mother, what sweet smile did I see in your field full of scent.

           What beauty, what shade, what love, what love--

           What anchal has been laid at the root of the banyan tree, at the river bank.

      Mother, the words of your mouth are sweet to my ears,

                              die alas, alas-

Mother, if your mouth is dirty, oh mother, I float in tears.

           You spent your childhood in this playhouse,

           May your dusty limbs be blessed with life.

   When the day is over, what lamp do you light in the evening,

                              die alas, alas-

Then leave all sports, O mother, I run to your lap.

           Bow-birds in your field, in the fields of the can go,

           All day long in the shadow of the birds,

      The days of life are spent in your paddy-filled courtyard,

                              die alas, alas-

Oh mother, all my brothers, oh mother, your shepherd is your farmer.

           Oh mother, I gave this head at your feet--

           Give me the dust of your feet, that will be the manikin of my head.

      O mother, I will give whatever wealth is at the feet of the poor,

                                   die alas, alas--

I will not buy it in the next room, mother, your Bhushan will be hanged.

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